"Let's play my favourite family car game." Melon Head—great guy, unfortunate name—pulled away from the window and adjusted the ball cap on his blond mop of hair. "How 'bout: Describe your vagina with a movie title."
Paris shot up from the backseat and stuck his face into the front of the car. "Where the Wild Things Are," he joined.
"Warm Bodies," Melon Head countered.
"You know there is only one person with a vagina in this car," said Delilah, but the ruined minds of two teenage boys were fired up.
"Holes."
"Finding Nemo."
"Open Season."
"Teeth."
Melon Head's knee hit the glove compartment as he clutched a hand between his legs. "I may be vagina-less, but I can actually feel my balls screaming."
Paris grabbed the shoulder of the driver seat and leaned in, a golden curl falling over his hazel eyes. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?" A grin tugged at his lips. "Teeth," he repeated.
The leather squeaked under Melon Head as he squirmed. "Stop. This makes the air taste bad."
"You know what else is bad?" Delilah, the driver, exasperated. Silver wisps of hair cracked against her cheeks as the wind poured from the open window. Her white boots pumped the gas pedal and their seats trembled under the roaring engine.
"Letting you drive?" Melon Head winced.
"Having to drive twelve hours to see my dickwad ex-boyfriend," Delilah grumbled. She flexed her newly human fingers on the chestnut leather of the steering wheel. "I'm literally the Devil! I don't need this 'transforming into a teenage girl' shit! I rule the freaking underworld."
Melon Head raised a protesting finger. "But you're on Earth and you're already putting the entire human race in danger by being here. You gotta blend, Satan."
"I love Earth! I love humans!" Paris gushed. He plonked himself back on the seat, jeans squashing an empty chip bag. "You know, they have this great thing called 'cheese pizza'. You folks oughta' try that orgasmic delicacy."
"I hate humans," Delilah spat. She dug her nails deeper into the steering wheel. "They have—ugh—feelings."
"But they're really nice! Yesterday, some guy even asked me to be a model." Paris gave a smouldering gaze into the front mirror with a jaw line chiselled by God.
Delilah rolled her eyes. "You're not even human, Paris! You're literally the spiritual form of Love crammed in some poor teen's body. The whole universe has no choice, but to love your sexy seventeen year old ass."
"Hey, I'd make a great model too," Melon Head piped in.
Delilah snorted. "Yeah. They'd ask you to pose as a model for the 'Before' photos."
She rolled her eyes as he held up two innocent hands. "Hey, hey," Melon Head said. "Just because you're in a shitty mood, doesn't mean you got to crush everyone's ego. Look, there's a cow!" He pressed his nose up against the glass, the green fields and haystacks reflecting in his wide blue eyes.
"You try being in a good mood when you find out your ex-boyfriend left you to become a human and then stupidly—" She swallowed her next words and kept her eyes on the road.
"Stupidly what? Why are we seeing your ex all of a sudden?" Paris scooted to the edge of his seat again.
"Guys! Take a look at the size of this cow!" Melon Head turned back around. "You think we could fit it in the trunk?"
"For seven sins, these morons..." Delilah muttered and rubbed her two fingers against the side of her head.
"C'mon, you can trust me. It can't be that bad." Paris's breath fanned down her neck and she shoved her palm in his face.
"Your breath smells like cinnamon hearts! Gross," she grumbled and pushed him away.
"What did your ex do?" Paris persisted. He tried to move his foot forward and cringed at the crush of a soda can, converses accidentally slipping into an empty takeout container.
Slowly, Delilah craned her neck to the side. "You don't want to know."
"Don't worry, I won't judge you," Paris assured.
"You feed her lies," Melon Head whispered.
"Shut up, Melon Head," they both announced.
He mimicked their voices and then plastered his face against the window again, horribly fascinated with American farm life.
"I'm your chaperone on Earth. The tour guide guy needs to know what's going on." Paris jabbed a thumb to his chest.
Delilah swallowed hard. Grabbing the pre-lit joint out of the ash tray sitting by the shift gear, she placed it between her red lips and muttered to the road, "He's a dead mad...I'm gonna kill him..."
Paris faced his torso to Melon Head. "Why won't she tell me?"
"Chillax, home-skillet." Melon Head kicked his converses up on the dashboard. "I don't even know why. She just yanked me outta bed yesterday and told me we were leaving the underworld. But who cares anyway? Let her embarrass herself. She needs to be humiliated more often. Savour this moment."
Paris scowled as frustrated lines grew down his forehead. "You know." He turned to Delilah. "Now that you're on Earth, your Devil-ness presence kinda' attracts all the good and evil spirits in the universe to this little town we're in."
Melon Head let out a deep belly laugh. "Yeah, Delilah. You're like the hot girl going to a party and suddenly every guy wants to be there, except instead of trying to sleep with you, they want to fucking kill you."
Paris added, "And instead of virgin nerds and arrogant jocks who want you, its hungry, desperate freaks, and evil spirits who will destroy anyone that has a bigger ego than them."
"Tomato, ta-mato. They're like, practically the same thing," said Delilah. She threw her hand over her shoulder. "Besides, if horny boys and egotistical jerks are the only things I need to worry about on Earth, then this'll be a bike ride through the heart of Hell."
"What?" Paris's face twisted in confusion.
"It'll be easy as a walk in the park," she rephrased and drove through a set of gates. "Oh my god—what is that whorehouse?!"
Her pulse quickened at every creak of the windows and groan of the castle shifting, horribly fascinated by the purple and yellow flag hanging above the entrance door.
"It's called a high school," answered Paris.
She sniffed. "What's that smell?"
Paris sucked in a big breath and exhaled out with a dreamy smile. "That's the smell of teen spirit." He paused. "And 30% fart."
They drove around the school and cruised through the parking lot in search for a spot until her eyes flew over something way too familiar. "Hells Bells," she cursed.
She squinted into the distance and caught a glimpse of messy bleach white hair. The hot summer sun beamed down on the school boy, the jersey clinging to his creamy milk skin.
"There you are," Delilah muttered and threw the steering wheel to the side.
Paris's head smacked against the window. "Yeowch! Delilah, that's not a road!"
"Yeah?" She wrapped both hands on the wheel. "Well I'm making it one."
She floored the car and their bodies snapped back against the seats. They sped over the curb and crashed through the fence, Melon Head's legs falling off the dashboard. The tires scorched a trail across the football field, car swerving faster than any quarterback.
Melon Head pounded his fist against the roof. "That's what I call a high school entrance!"
Delilah pushed her foot farther and the car hummed, gears choking in protest underneath.
The school boys on the track pulled their heads up and didn't move, the sight of headlights caught in their eyes.
"Delilah!" shrieked Paris and lurched forward for the wheel.
She slammed her foot on the breaks and their necks whipped forward, before the seat belt snapped them back. Their heads bobbled, staring straight at the crossbar of the field. Paris's hair was spiked one way and faltered, glasses swishing side to side before falling off. "I don't think anyone got hit."
Terrified, the school boys scattered across the track with ill faces. One body laid sprawled five feet away as his legs were twisted at an odd angle.
"Ye got 'em!" Melon Head cheered.
Some school boys on the bleachers stood up and cupped their hands, screaming, "Ryland! Get up!" But the boy didn't move.
Delilah swung open the door, the grass flattening under her boots.
Paris jerked his gaze behind him as Delilah opened the trunk of the car. "What are you doing?!"
She pulled out a shotgun.
Melon Head glanced through the rear-view mirror and whipped his head around. "So you can fit that in the trunk, but you can't fit a cow?!"
Paris flew open the passenger door and stumbled onto the field with his foot stuck in a Chinese takeout box. "Delilah! Wait!"
She loaded it and slammed the trunk back down, marching towards Ryland.
Melon Head sat in the car with his feet kicked back on the dashboard. "Delilah, baby. This is 2015. We don't use shotguns to kill our exes. We use golf clubs."
"Ryland!" Delilah screamed at the white haired boy on the ground.
Paris moved his hand up, the magic dripping out like a rusty faucet, but was enough to pull the bullets out of the gun. They spilled over her shoes and anger blew up across Delilah's face. She tossed the weapon and stood above Ryland, pushing her silver hair to the side so it wouldn't get in her fuming brown eyes.
Ryland lifted his head up, keeping his eyes shut from the sunrays that laughed at him. What the hell?" He heard the pounding of her footsteps and kicked his heels back. "Who are you?!"
"Ryland." Her voice sent everyone's hairs standing.
Ryland flew his eyes open and blinked back. "How do you know my name?!"
Her mouth curled into this weapon of mass verbal destruction, firing off curses and insults that could cut through steel hearts and shatter ego.
But Ryland only caught onto one sentence:
"You got me fucking pregnant, you poignant shithead!"
His long, slender legs scrambled him to his feet, bruised elbows pushing him up. "What?"
Melon Head winced. "0 to 100 real quick."
"For the love of Cupid," Paris muttered and stared up towards the heavens.
"Do you know this psycho?" the one of his gym buddies asked.
"No!" Ryland answered.
"Yes!" Delilah screamed.
"Alright! Who's dicks are wrestling?" a voice boomed. The school boys glanced up at the sausage legs of a plump man come running down the steps, his whistle jingling around his neck.
One of the school boys stepped up with a crooked smile. "Coach! Ryland's psycho girlfriend came barging in."
"Shut up, Lucan!" Ryland shouted at the boy and looked up. "I seriously don't know this girl!" He waved a hand towards Delilah.
She pulled her lips back into a snarl. "Liar!"
"What is going on?!" Coach inhaled the smell of burning grass and jerked his head to the car. "Whose vehicle is that and why is it on my field?!"
"It's mine, sir," Paris replied and flashed a weak smile. "We were using it for a drama prop," he lied. The coach glanced at the shotgun in his hands. "Uh, you know us drama students—we like to go out with a—eh—bang?"
The Coach's gaze softened, but his voice didn't. "This isn't some Pretty Little Liars episode or Mean Girls shenanigan," he told Ryland and Delilah. "This is gym class. Guidance is that way if you have some girly gossip to deal with."
"I'm his ex-girlfriend!" Delilah exasperated.
Ryland's fists shook by his side. "I swear I don't know her."
But the coach was already scrawling his pen across the clipboard. "Tell this to the guidance counsellor."
"You've gotta be shitting me!" Ryland exclaimed and snatched the pink slip out of the coach's hand. Not one school boy offered to help him up the stairs as he limped his way.
Delilah stepped after him, but Coach put a hand on her shoulder. "Nuh uh." He scratched his pen across the pad and the pink paper fluttered against her nose. "No glove, no love," he scolded.
Delilah tightened her jaw and ripped the pink paper in half. "Who in Hell's Carnation do you think I am? You and your pink slips can't tame me!" She spun on her heel, chasing after her ex.
Ryland was already in the school—and impolitely didn't hold the door open, it closing on her face. "Hey!" she screamed.
She stomped into a cloud of smoke and coughed through the hallway. "Way to go, Delilah," Melon Head said. He flicked the joint into the garbage bin and pushed his one foot off the wall. "That's ought to be the best first impression I've seen. Psychotic lady accuses boy of being the father of her child? Now where have I heard that one, Billie Jean?"
With legs as long as Ryland's, Melon Head easily kept up with her quick strides as he was even a few steps ahead.
"Can you please be a little helpful?" she asked, still running after Ryland.
He shrugged. "I was gonna be, but I thought I'd be more fun to watch you make yourself more of a dumb ass."
She let out a whine and shoved Melon Head away, trying to follow after Ryland. "You're a dickhead!"
"I don't know you!" Ryland yelled, thinking it was him that she was screaming to.
Ryland glimpsed at the staircase, and swore, limping his way to the elevator.
"Hold it open, asshole!" she screamed and he tried clicking the button, but she swooped in on time with a heavy pant.
Once the elevator door shut, they both stood silent on opposite ends of the elevator. Ryland slouched against the railing, his tall structure cramping up in the tiny corner. Delilah didn't see him as harmless, more of lazy and lethargic, but then he made a sudden move.
He slammed his hand above her head and leaned down, crazy electric eyes sending her heart hammering. "What is your deal?!"
Even though she was Satan and the freaking ruler of the underworld, she leaned back at his towering height and wished she could've picked a much taller human body to be in.
"My deal?" she squeaked.
"Yes you, you, you Satanic freak!"
Then the awkward elevator music began.
"This is like Fifty Shades of Elevator," whispered a tiny voice.
They whipped around and a smiling ninth grader in the corner stared.
"How long have you been there?!" screamed Ryland.
"The whole time," the little boy answered and continued staring. He smiled again.
"Gagh! Shoo, tiny vermin!" Delilah said.
When the elevator went off with a ding, and they both shot out of the elevator, Ryland quickly running to the guidance office that was luckily in front of them. Both their hands landed on the knob and Ryland quickly pushed her to the side.
"Don't touch me!" he spat.
"I touched the knob first!" Delilah snapped.
He scowled and tossed open the door and closed it on her face. She let out an infuriated scream and the door magically opened for her as she stormed in.
+++
[Author Note]
There was about 7 pop culture references in this chapter: Taylor Swift, Nirvana, Michael Jackson, Drake, Fifty Shades of Grey, and a handful of movies. Did you catch 'em?
Thought I'd start this New Year with a bang (like the drama kids lol) and give you the first chapter of my Nanowrimo 2015 story.
It's a complete story and I will be releasing each chapter every 3 days.
Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Please vote and comment on my story! It gets really good in the next chapter. :)
Thoughts on how it is now?
Love you lots,
Xx twister :)